Mysticism and Greek Monasticism By JOHANNES RINNE There is reason to assert that Christian mysticism is as old as Christianity itself. In the Pauline epistles, e.g., there are obvious signs of this fact. The later Christian mysticism has, in a high degree, been inspired by these ele- ments and likewise by various corresponding thoughts in the Johannine writings, which traditionally are interpreted from this angle and which have played a central role especially for the Orthodox Church.' In the light of the above-mentioned circumstances, it seems fully natural that there exists, from the very beginning, a clear connection also between mysticism and Christian monasticism. It has been pointed out by certain authors that the role of mystical visions is of essential and decisive significance also as regards the development from the stage of the hermits of the deserts to that form of life which, in the proper sense of the word, is characterised as monastic. There is, generally speaking, no possibility to understand correctly the intentions and the thoughts of the great pioneers of monasticism, unless one takes into account the mystically visionary factors. To this end it is neces- sary, furthermore, to penetrate in an inner, spiritual way, into the holy sym- bolism of the monastic tradition and into the sacred legends of its history.2 In other words, it is necessary to keep constantly in mind the visionary factor and to remember that the pioneers of monastic life, as a rule, are men of which it may be said that they have their conversation in heaven: on the mystical level of vision they converse with the angels as the representatives of the heavenly world and as those organs, by means of which the principles of monastic life are transmitted and given to the men of mystical visions.' The things mentioned above are not merely history. The said way of 1 Cf. C.-M. Edsman, "Mystik", Nordisk Teologisk Uppslagsbok, 2, Lund 1955, cols. 1144 sq. 2 W. Nigg, Warriors of God, edited and translated from the German by Mary Ilford, 1, London 1959, pp. 50 sq. 3 Nigg, op.cit., pp. 54 sq. 116 JOHANNES RINNE thinking, far from belonging only to a remote period in a vanished world, represents a way of reasoning and of experiencing reality, which even to-day can be found to be quite natural among the monks of the ancient orthodox monasteries of Mount Athos, Sinai, Patmos, or in some other centres in the world of the Greek-speaking brotherhoods.' Visions of various types play also nowadays an important role for the fathers and brethren of those monas- teries, which for centuries have been abodes of mysticism. It would be an enticing task to try to follow the paths of mysticism within the boundaries of the monastic tradition in question. On the other hand this would be a difficult and extensive undertaking, and for several reasons unfeasible in the present connection. Consequently, we shall pay attention only to a couple of names and phenomena, which are representative of the mysticism of the Greek- speaking monastic world, although this is bound to mean, unfortunately, that the total picture becomes incomplete and defective, in some measure, as a considerable amount of important material must be left without attention. Perhaps it should be pointed out, furthermore, that when we refer to the Greek-speaking monastic world, the concept has no political limitation: it pertains to that area or to those monastic communities, which have been or are parts of the Greek language cultural sphere. With a few exceptions, we shall chiefly concentrate our attention upon two objects: first, on St. Gregory of Nyssa and his teachings, and second, on that mysticism which is repre- sented by the monastic tradition of the Holy Mountain of Athos. It is customary to characterise St. Gregory of Nyssa 394) as the father of Christian mysticism, and whatever one may think of the accuracy and justification of the said expression, there is no doubt about his significance: he truly played a role of primary importance both for Christian mysticism in general and particularly for the position of Christian mysticism in the monasteries of the Greek world. In Church history he is known as one of the Three Great Cappadocians, together with his brother Basil the Great and Gregory of Nazianz. His close co-operation with the brother, who is regarded as the father of the Greek monasteries, explains, in part at least, why his ideas became so significant within the sphere of the Greek monastic 1 The author has found many proofs of this through his contacts with some monks in Athos, Sinai and Patmos. Mysticism and Greek Monasticism 117 tradition.' Gregory for his part characterises the name of Basil as great among the holy men.2 As regards Gregory of Nyssa, it seems just to say, that he during his whole life was occupied with the problem of beholding God and knowledge of God. It is to be observed that all his thoughts, which are related to this matter, constitute an integral part of his system of thinking as a totality, as it is nowadays admitted even in such circles, where his attitude was earlier often characterised as neoplatonic, in the narrow sense of that term, in which case it was usually forgotten that whatever might be said concerning the shape of his thoughts in certain cases, it was his Christian approach and his pro- foundly and essentially Christian faith that mattered most decisively, from the point of view of contents. This implies, among other things, that if one wants to speak of neoplatonism in Gregory, one has to bear in mind, in any case, that it is fundamentally conditioned by Christianity, in the light of which it is also to be interpreted.3 Gregory refers to two ways of salvation. One is called the way of deeds and activity, while the other one is characterised as the contemplative way, and it is emphasised that one of these is necessary for salvation.4 It should quite particularly be noticed that the latter way is not called passive, but con- templative, and, furthermore, that these two ways are not thought of as being on the same level: contemplation—especially contemplative beholding—con- stitutes the higher form of our knowledge of God and it is not reached by means of the normal methods of thought. This implies, among other things, that there are degrees in the realm of spiritual life and that only the perfect may have true knowledge of God. On the other hand, it must be borne in mind that in so far as the spiritual life pertains to the entire ego, the whole of man, there cannot be any absolute cleft or chasm between the practical and the religious. For the same reason it would be utterly unjust to characterise the higher forms of spiritual life as an expression of passivity, quite particu- 1 Cf. Edsman, op. cit., col. 1145. 2 Fr. Oehler (editor), Gregor's, Bischoff's von Nyssa Gespräch mit seiner Schwester Makrina über Seele und Auferstehung, 1, (Bibliothek der Kirchenväter, hi), Leipzig 1958, p. 2. 3 Cf. Edsman, op. cit., col. 1145. 4 P. Verghese, "The role of Monasticism and New Askesis for our Time", The Ecumenical Review, XV:3, 1963, p. 311. I18 JOHANNES RINNE larly since it is of decisive significance for the Orthodox tradition that we underline, not only the role of the grace of God, but also the role of human will and human activity, as regards the position of man before God: without this emphasis we cannot understand correctly the nature of mysticism from the point of view of prayer, spiritual purification, and contemplation.' Gregory rejects expressly the idea that the visible things would constitute the limit for the essence of things and that the perceptions of our senses would be the criterion as regards our knowledge of the universe.2 Such an attitude would mean, according to him, that the spiritual organs of man's mind are ignored and left unused or that they are closed for everything and that one cannot study anything non-corporal nor anything that belongs to the realm of thought alone. Here Gregory makes use of a simple but expressive parable: he asserts that a person with the said attitude resembles a man, who has been shut up in a house and lacks every possibility to behold the wonders of the sky, because the walls and the roof hinder him from this. In this connection also the difference between the various forms of knowledge becomes fairly clear, when Gregory remarks that the things perceptible for our senses in the universe are like the walls of the world, which may conceal the things that are spiritually comprehensible or the beholding of knowledge.3 Man is like a microcosm which contains the elements by means of which the universe has been formed as an entirety or as a whole.4 The soul of man is a created, living being with the faculty of thought.5 This opens the way for that contemplation which is independent of the sensual perceptions, based on visible objects. Every thing and character draws to itself that which is akin to it. Human nature is, in its own manner, akin to the divine and thus it has some traces of its prototype. This implies, among other things, that man's soul is drawn toward the divinity. From this point of view it matters essentially, whether man is weighed down by things material or whether he in an ever higher degree is free from them: in the former case the movement in question is 1 Cf.